“You’d better get Amir.”
Zai’s eyes widen like he forgot, and he glances back toward the mountain. “Go ahead,” he says.
He stays and watches as I let myself through the gates and the courtyard beyond. I’m still wondering if Hades is even here as I step into his house. I frown as I realize there are no locks at all on the doors. With gods and champions not happy with me? That seems…unwise.
“Hello?” I call out. My voice sort of echoes. Good grief, this place is a mausoleum.
No one answers.
I make my way to the second floor, headed to my bedroom, but as soon as I reach the top of the stairs, I spot Hades.
He’s standing at the massive window that runs the length of the courtyard, from which he has a perfect view of the road where I was standing with Zai. It is incredibly unfair that his ass should look that good in jeans when the rest of him, held stiffly erect with his hands stuffed in his pockets, is so blatantly pissed off.
Again.
If he thinks I’m sticking around to be yelled at after yet another Labor I managed to survive, he can fuck right off.
I turn on my heel in the direction of my bedroom.
“Zai. Godsdamned. Aridam?” Hades pronounces each syllable distinctly, the words like cuts, and with the same tone an executioner would use to read a death sentence.
40
Consequences
Walking away would only piss Hades off more, so I face him, arms crossed but with a deliberately sweet smile. “Didn’t you just curse yourself?”
“What?” He’s still glaring out the window with his back to me.
“‘Godsdamned.’ That’s you that you’re damning.”
Hades turns slowly and pins me with a look that could skewer a wild bull. “You picked the runt of the litter for your ally. Not even a discussion with me first. With that unexpected and supremely inconvenient soft heart of yours, I am damned.”
“Don’t call him that.” I eye him with deliberate patience. “And by that logic, you picked me, and so you damned yourself.”
Hades’ glare hones to dagger-sharp. “So I did.”
“Glad we can agree on something. I’m taking a shower and a nap—”
Suddenly, Hades’ demeanor shifts. Just slightly, in a way that’s hard to pin down. He’s still angry, but now it’s smoother, like the difference between a charging bear and a coiled rattlesnake. “Starting a collection, are we?”
I sigh like I’m dealing with an irritating gnat. “What are you on about now?”
His eyes narrow, but I widen mine and give him my most guileless stare. If he’s trying to make a point, I’m certainly not going to help him.
“First your thief-not-friend,” he says. “Now one of the champions. Falling at your feet.”
Falling at my feet? My laugh is edged in bitterness. He knows about my curse. “Are you being deliberately cruel because I didn’t consult with you about Zai?”
If looks could skewer, I’d be bleeding. “It’s possible the curse isn’t what you think. They seem to like you well enough.”
“They do not.”
“You’re willfully naive if you don’t see it.”
“And you’re hallucinating if you do. One is only an ally. The other told me to my face that we’re just friends. No one is falling at my feet. It is not possible, and you know it.”
Actually, the person who comes closest to disproving my curse is Hades. With that kiss last night. Although lust and love are two very different things—which I saw all too often back home. I’d not really understood others’ interest in one without the other, but as I stare at Hades’ full bottom lip, I’m starting to get it. On paper, my crush on Boone isn’t gone, but he’s never spun me out of control like Hades. It’s the difference between a cozy fire in a potbellied stove and burning down the entire house.
“Let’s circle back to your ally,” Hades says, thankfully oblivious to my thoughts.
The hard stare he levels on me would have most quaking in their boots. I just pinch the bridge of my nose. “What about Zai? We have an agreement.”
If possible, Hades goes even harder, eyes like flint. “And you believed him?”
Now he’s calling me gullible and careless. I raise my chin. “I do now.” Mostly.
Hades gets even quieter. “You can’t trust him.” But his control breaks over the next three snarled words. “Damn it, Lyra.”
I don’t mind being yelled at, but sworn at? No. I raise one eyebrow, crossing my arms. “You want to rethink your tone?”
Hades stalks across the space between us, and I swear smoke is lifting off of him in black tendrils. “No, I don’t want to rethink my fucking tone.”
He doesn’t stop coming, but despite the twisting nerves in my belly telling me I might have gone too far, I refuse to back up like a coward. I have to deliberately plant my feet to keep from running, though.
He jerks to a halt a mere foot from me, radiating a thousand nuances of frustration. “You will be the death of me, Lyra Keres.”
